


Another Note

by Adry1412



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, M/M, Mental Illness, No Zombies AU, Notes, Prescription Pills, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sickness from stress, Stockholm Syndrome, bottom!daryl, kinda happy ending???, stalker au, stalker!rick, top!rick, victim!daryl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-05-30 08:27:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6416248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adry1412/pseuds/Adry1412
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stalker!Rick leaves notes, twice a day, for Daryl to find. Daryl is left to deal with his problems alone under the watchful eye of his stalker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"You looked gorgeous last night, sweetheart. Absolutely delicious. Please wear that black shirt again."

Another note. Stuffing it in his pocket, Daryl leans against the door, pulling deep breaths and counting to ten. Two pills are dry swallowed before locking his door and heading down the thin, dark stairs and out the front door to work.  
Notes, twice a day, showed up at his front door, in varying degrees of innocent or obscene. It's been a year now and every day brings new knots to his stomach.  
He tries to ignore them now. Just zipped up his sweater and keeps walking. But it's hard to ignore when his hands shake and the shiver of fear runs up his spine every time he finds another one.  
Almost as hard as it is to ignore the blush at the pet names and compliments his stalker slips into his letters.  
\---  
Browns stone apartments flank the narrow street he lives on. Reminiscent of old New York and nearly empty with everyone having moved uptown or out to the suburbs. Pulling his collar up and walking briskly with a cigarette, he tries to forget the note.

"Please! I need someone to stop him! He watched me sleep!!"  
"Mr. Dixon, we're sorry, but there's nothing we can do! We can't do a thing until he makes himself known."  
"I'll be dead!! He'll kill me!!"  
The officer sighs, Daryl knows it's a losing battle. He'd end up dead before any of the cops did a damned thing.

He shivers remembering how they laughed and told him to take a compliment. They had mocked him, laughing and joking that it was probably an ex lover. He had left when his breathing became hitched and he was close to tears. He broke down soon after feeling lost and so afraid.  
He walks a little more quickly, almost trying to out run the memories.  
\---  
His footsteps echo heavily in the dark street, streetlights either broken or few and far in between. He speeds up, glancing at the man behind him, heart beating hard and fast against his rib cage.  
He's running now, breath short and shallow, making his head hurt again, keys gripped right in sweating hands. He fumbles at the door, shaking hard and whimpering pathetically. He steals another glance as the man slips into an alley.  
He's safe. For now at least.  
\---  
Deep breaths with his back against the door, dead bolt in place. He hugs his knees right and sobs, digging in his pocket for his prescription.  
The doctor had laughed, called his "stalker" a figure of his imagination. Said his anxiety caused him to overreact. He felt sick to his stomach, shame digging claws into him, causing him to be sick until all that came up was blood and bile.

He wipes his eyes, stealing another lungful of air, before standing and all but crawling in the shower. He stops, one foot in, and gets back out. Towel around his waist he checks the locks on the door again, and once more before turning back towards the bathroom.  
But the windows. So he checks them too, the three over his bed especially as they face the empty street. He can finally relax. At least for a few minutes.  
He stills peaks his head around the shower curtain every few minutes.  
\---  
Smoke swirled up and through the dark blue curtain, out the open window. He watched the sunset, painting the city in an orange glow, from his bed. Shane had just left. Words of Daryl's dysfunction still hung in the air, mixed with promises love from earlier.  
He felt numb. His chest stuck in the piercing emptiness and guilt for not being able to get aroused. He felt broken, so unbelievably exhausted, and nervous. Shane was right to leave. He was right to get angry.  
\---  
"Saw that man leaving your apartment. Fuck him. I'm all the man you need, beautiful. I can't wait until I can show you that."

He rips the note, turning it into a hundred little pieces before shoving it into the trash can.  
He needs a drink.  
\---  
The diner is dim, lights a hazy yellow and the floral wall paper is falling off in streaks, dyed yellow with grease. His coffee is lukewarm before the lady returns to fill it, giving him a sympathetic smile. Not a lot of people come to a diner in the early morning hours without something heavy weighing on their minds.  
He's alone except for a trucker, fast asleep at the counter, and a curly haired man in a corner booth who won't meet his eyes yet seems to always be watching.  
He makes Daryl nervous but for what reason, he's not sure. Paying for the coffee he goes to leave, maybe be able to catch an hour or two of sleep before work. He stands a minute to light his cigarette before walking.  
But he's not alone.  
It's the same game, over and over again. He runs home just to fumble with his keys and too see the man disappear.  
He sits against the door, trying to calm his breathing and nerves.  
\---  
"Couldn't sleep last night, beautiful? Bad dreams again? You looked amazing though. Like always."  
Ignoring the note, he goes to work.  
Coffee helps his head and frazzled nerves.  
\---  
The stars are hidden by the bright lights of the city and Daryl wishes every day he was back home. The fire escape is cold under his legs and the cigarette he's nursing does little to calm his nerves.

"You're absolutely gorgeous when you run, sweetheart. I love to watch your hair and your ass as they bounce. One day, I promise, I will fuck you. Then you will know how much I love you."

He shivers and closes his eyes, willing the tears away. He knows the guy is across the street, watching him from the shadows. But eventually he'll go inside and the man will leave, at least until tomorrow.  
"Go away!!" He yells in frustrated anger before hopping through his window, slamming it shut and locking it. He sits on his bed. Watching as the man stomps out his smoke and walks carelessly down the block.  
The tears burn and he draws his knees up, letting them flow. His canary song is one of frustration and fear held together by the bars of his prison.  
\---  
He's afraid to walk down the street, to even step outside his door. The building has a front door, then his just up the stairs and to the left. The man clearly knows how to get into the building, to Daryl's front door. His notes have been scarier, more threatening.

"I smelled your hair at the deli yesterday. It was intoxicating, just like you. I can't wait until I can taste you."

He shudders and feels the water run over him from his position on the shower floor. The tiles are cracked and old, his finger tips running over them. The new shampoo he bought sits next to him on the ledge and he eyes it warily before standing to wash his hair. The constant ball of fear in his chest is stronger now. The man has gotten closer and closer to an oblivious Daryl, only for him to find out through the letters.  
\---  
He calls out of work for the fifth day in a row. He's told not to come back, that they found someone to replace him. The apartment is a true prison now. He can't go outside, the man is always watching and waiting.

"Heard you lost you job. Don't worry about money, sweetheart. I'll take care of you. I'll always take care of you."

He can't sleep. The exposed brick walls become more and more crushing every moment of every day he sits on his bed, chain smoking and checking the locks.  
He takes another pull from the whiskey bottle, his stomach flaring angrily, bile threatening to rise. It burns all the way down and he's sure his ulcers are bleeding again. The man is across the street again, hiding in the shadows of the apartment building. Only the thin outline of his figure and the cherry red dot of his cigarette are visible and Daryl feels sick.  
\---  
"You've been sick again. Have you been taking your medication? I heard your crying and I know it was because of that man, Shane. I'll take care of it, sweetheart. Don't you worry."

He almost laughs. The man thinks Shane is to blame for his crying, for his sickness. The sound is stuck in his throat, next to the words he could never bring himself to say.  
\---  
He runs. He's always running and it exhausts him. Two blocks to the corner store. Five dollars for cigarettes. The man is behind him, hoodie pulled up so only his short beard and thick pink lips are showing. It's too much, with his head spinning and visions blurring, he stops.  
Holding the apartment side he vomits. It splashes, mostly thin watery acid, as his legs give and he falls onto shaky knees.  
The footsteps stop and hands are on him, on his arm and around his waist. "No.. Please stop." He's winces at how weak he is, his eyes like sandpaper as he tries to keep them open.  
"Shh. I got you, sweetheart."

Daryl wakes in his bed, cool night breeze slipping into his room. It was just a dream! He laughs hysterically. "What's so funny, darling?"  
He bolts up, head spinning before he falls back again. Strong hands on his shoulders holding him down. "Relax, sweetheart. You fainted. You know you need your prescription." Two pills are feed to Daryl by hand with sips of water to wash them down. He's completely numb, locked on his bed by the man's piercing blue eyes.  
"There you go, angel." He strokes Daryl's hair and places a kiss, gentle as the night star's glow, on his forehead. Kisses on his cheeks and eyes lead down to his lips, sweet and loving, as the medication kicks him, calming his nerves.

His clothes end up tossed on the floor next to the man's. He shakes when the older man touches him and opens him, he's close to tears yet his breath hitches. His wide eyes fall shut and he tries to breathe through it, little whimpers and gasps slip through his kiss swollen lips. He cries out when the man penetrates him, tears falling but a gentle hand wipes them and shushes him. The lips are back, covering his with such affection before going straight to that spot on his neck that makes his back arch.

"You were amazing. Just how I imagined you'd be." Daryl's on the bed, hugging his knees. The older man giggles as he pulls out two cigarettes, placing one between Daryl's lips and lighting it for him. It helps.  
He's ashamed. He let the man take advantage of him and he enjoyed every goddamn minute of it. He came with his arms around the curly haired man's neck, legs widening for more, begging 'please, please, please'. He hasn't found his voice since those sinful pleads had escaped his throat. He feels disgusted, shame filling him at the thought of finally being able to get it up, to cum at the hands of his tormentor. He struggles for a moment, a million questions running through his mind. "Who are you?"  
The man smiles. "I'm Rick. I guess I should have told you in the notes, but you can never be too careful, you know? Especially since you, my love, have a tendency of running to the police station every month or so." He laughs, full yet quiet, shaking his head.  
Daryl can't help but huff, taking a drag of the cigarette and letting the smoke escape through his nose. "Rick.." He repeats the man, feeling the shame wash off him and becoming replaced with....comfort? Peace?  
\---  
They share the cigarettes and silence as Rick watches him. A crazed, love filled look on his face. "You know I have pictures of you, right? All over my apartment. I took them myself. I know that's weird but, gosh Daryl, you're just so beautiful I couldn't resist."  
Daryl laughs, feeling a stray tear fall. Rick looks scared, as ridiculous as it sounds, and rushes to his side to wipe at it. "I didn't meant to make you cry, darling. I just want you to know how much I love you."  
"How much you love me?"  
Rick nods and holds his hand between his, stroking softly as if that's all it took to express his love. "I've done so much for you, Daryl. I killed that man Shane. The police won't know, they won't find his body. He's all the way down stream by now." It should scare him. It should but it doesn't. "I didn't like those things he called you. Saying you're a whore and that you're crazy and a psycho. I know you're not, sweetheart. I know you're perfect. That's why I love you."  
Daryl reaches for another cigarette but Rick beats him to it and lights it for him again. "I'd treat you like a princess, Daryl. How you deserve to be treated. You won't ever need to lift another finger for the rest of your life. I promise."  
It's ridiculous. But so is the kiss Daryl gives him. So is the smile on both their faces.  
"I'll show you the pictures one day. I'll show you how much I love you."  
"I know you will."  
Rick smiles, bright distant eyes watching him yet not seeing him. They kiss again and Daryl can't help but to laugh. It's short and hysterical but Rick joins. It's a new song, piercing the fog in his head and heart. His new canary song of the fat cat finally getting what he had wanted and the little bird letting it happen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I wouldn't write anymore of this, but I couldn't resist haha!  
> \---  
> Total change in perspective. Told from Rick's POV and in the form of conscious thought/journal. This is Rick's re-telling if Another Note.

Mama always said I had an addictive personality.  
Boy, if she only knew.

You see, I get addicted pretty easily to things. It started young. My room was full of cowboys; toys, clothes, bed spread, anything cowboy! Got over that quick. Space fascinated me and I got every book I could on the topic, my ceiling painted in constellations and galaxies.  
Mama always said I was artistic too.  
But all my obsessions went away after a few months, dwindling down until I ultimately lost interest and moved on.

But Daryl was different.  
I hadn't meant to get hooked! But when he walked past, God, it was like the world slowed down. This filthy excuse for a city disappeared and everything moved in slow motion.  
Bouncy brown hair framing his perfectly angular face, a few strands slipping in front of the most amazing blue eyes I have ever seen. Thin pink lips, a Cupid's bow like I've never seen before, begging to be kissed. Thin black tee shirt and tight blue jeans that accentuated his narrow hips and perfect ass. And I'll tell you what, I had to smack myself when I saw him walk by.

His smile blew me away.  
He didn't see me that first time; I was just standing at the corner, smoking a cigarette and watching the city spin around me, until he had walked by and stole the breath right out of my body. I couldn't leave it just that brief passing, so I followed him to his apartment. I know it sounds crazy, but I was smitten. He didn't see me right away and I pretended to have just been walking by; but when those blue eyes locked with mine and that perfect little mouth turned upwards in the sweetest smile... That was it.

\---  
I knew I was in deep.  
My camera was always around my neck, a piece of tape over the red light so I could push the shutter and take pictures without that human angel knowing. As shy as I am, I doubt I had to go through that much trouble, he always seemed in his own mind, never realizing I was around. Deep in his thoughts he'd walk around, going to and from work with his pretty little head in the clouds, never realizing I was behind him or that I was across the street, waiting to lock eyes again. Sometimes he'd hum and, although adorable, it proved how distant he was from me.  
And to be honest, after a few weeks, my blood began to boil. Mama always said I had a bit of a temper.  
Boy, was she right.

His pictures hung in room, next to my bed. I only put up the good ones, not the ones where people got in the way or if something blocked any part of that angelic face and perfect body. This one's my favorite, it's him sitting on the bench in the park. He hadn't noticed me when I say across from him, too busy eating a yogurt with a small wooden spoon. I took a few pictures, pretending to have been fixing the camera. Some were too blurry but this one... God, I could look at it for hours, days even. I think he may have found a strawberry in the yogurt because his beautiful pink lips were quirked up in the most mouth watering smile. I wanted desperately to sit next to him, to hold him close and kiss him silly, but he got up and walked back to work at that dirty garage before I could even get the balls to say hello. God it was pathetic.

The notes came later, 3 months to be exact. It hadn't been my idea! When one of his idiot neighbors dropped their front key right in front of me and, well, I couldn't resist. I had to bring him something!  
I spent that first day in front of his door, just looking at the wood, memorizing every knick and swirl of wood. He had been at work and would be home in about an hour so I had to think fast, to leave something so he'd know I was here.

"My world stops when I see you. You're smile takes my breath away and I hope to one day return the favor. I love you."

Perfect.  
I put the note on his welcome mat before pausing. I was curious and I had pressed my nose into the crack below his door and took a deep breath, trying to see if I could smell anything. It was intoxicating, nothing but fresh linen and him.  
The mail box in the front room had the residents names on thin piece of papers over tiny lockers. Daryl Dixon. I had smiled then, finally knowing the name of my beloved angel.  
"Daryl." The name is still as sweet today as it was then.

I began leaving the notes everyday. I'd sneak him while he was at work or asleep so he'd see them first thing in the morning and right when he came home. I got a rush from imagining that sweet, addictive mouth of his turning up at the ends while he read them to himself. I hope he understands how much he means to me, how much I love him, and how much I would do for and to him.  
I'd give him the world if I could.

\---  
I could laugh now at how crazy I got.  
I began going through his trash, trying to find anything I could to tell me more about my sweet obsession. I must have looked like a hobo with my beard growing out and my elbows deep in ripped apart garbage bags. I had a box in my room of the things I've found. A broken hairbrush with some strands still in it, a sock with a hole in it, a crumbled piece of paper with a doodle of a dragon on it, a toothbrush, an empty cigarette box with song lyrics written on it, and 2 prescription bottles for anxiety and depression.  
Of course, not everything was important, but these..these are my prized possessions. They tell me so much about my beautiful Daryl, what his hair smells like, what cigarettes he smokes and what songs he likes, and, although the I hate to think about it, that he is struggling.  
My eyes sting when I hold the empty bottles and I've spent many night with them clutched in my hands, begging to be given the chance to take the pain away.

\---  
I felt the anger run through my veins, heard my heartbeat in my ears when I saw that piece of shit with his hand on Daryl's lower back.  
He was tall, tan skin and pure muscle. I watched from the alley across the street, breathing deep to calm the fury running through me, making my cheeks burn and that sickly taste rise in the back of my throat. I saw them go inside and I could see them through the bay type windows, my small binoculars giving me a closer look, when the man forces himself into my love's space.  
He was a monster!! Big hands running way to roughly up and down Daryl's thin, fragile hips and kissing him so hard that Daryl has no choice but put his hands on that asshole's face to hold him back a little. He damn near rips Daryl's clothes off with those giant bear hands and he's grabbing him too roughly, too fast. That bastard had the balls to reach and grab Daryl's perfect ass, much too tightly I might add, judging by the way my sweetheart jumped. I want to hit him. I want to run across the street, tear the door off its hinges and beat that man to death. I want to yell and scream, stop! You're going to hurt him! He's too fragile and you're a fucking monster!!

But then it's over. And as much as I want to sigh in relief, my chest feels tight. That bastard is yelling, Daryl sitting on the his bed, pulling at a blanket to cover his (gorgeous) naked self. He's going to leave so I run across the street and slip into the alley next to Daryl's apartment building.  
"Fucking delusional slut. Couldn't even suck my dick proper. What a fucking psycho. Ha! A stalker! Crazy ass sumofabitch..."  
My blood boils and before I realize what I'm doing, I have the man in my arms and I'm throwing him down. My fist as flying fast and hard and I can't stop.

He went limp long before I stopped hitting him. That big, ugly face looked even worse when I was done, blood covering what bruises didn't. Twilight was setting and I knew it wouldn't be long before I could go get my car, shove that sack of shit in the back, and toss his useless, undeserving body into the river.  
And that's what I did. Mama always said I had a temper, but she never mentioned how dangerous my temper could be.

\---  
It's been a little over a year now and I'm still trying to find a way to approach my sweet Daryl.  
I began to follow him home, hoping that he'd turn and I'd be forced to spill my feelings. I know it's a strange way to do it, but I'm shy and my mouth always ends up dry when those perfect blue eyes turn in my direction.

I know chasing him is a little crazy, but it's addicting! Not only do I get to see that gorgeous, round ass bounce with each step, but it also runs the possibility of him turning and talking to me. I know I'll never be able to start a conversation with him, so I wait and hope he will.  
And it also awakes something inherently primal in me. The chasing of the prey, getting as close to Daryl as possible before eventually pouncing and attacking. It's animalistic in the best way possible. Breath shallow and heart pounding when I see him, those narrow hips and perky ass moving swiftly through the darkened streets. It's addictive and I have to take deep breaths, back against the cold bricks, to calm my nerves and the blood pooling in my groin.  
Fuck. I look like an idiot, leaning in an alley with a goofy grin and a hand down the front of my pants.

Now, like with every relationship, we've run into a few snags. Daryl lost his job and he had been frustrated. He yelled at me from his fire escape, and although I was amazed that he acknowledged me, my heart sank with the harsh words he said. I left and spent the whole night lying awake in bed, tears flowing and heart breaking. That sick man must have hurt him bad, that must be it because I didn't do anything to him. I've been trying so hard to get him to understand my love but that disgusting man came in and ripped away my chance. He broke Daryl's heart and now it's my job to fix it. I have to try harder to make him listen, to help him open up and accept me and everything I have to offer.  
I'd treat him like the princess he is.

\---  
Mama always said that if you put into work something, the results will be even sweeter.  
It's clumsy and my heart aches the first time I'm able to hold Daryl in my arms. I was chasing him, that wonderful game that makes me giddy and fills me with pure wolf-like energy. He had stopped and I paused, unable to move when he starts to throw up and those seductive legs buckle. He's sick and I know it's because of his medication, he must have forgotten to take it.  
He was afraid and it pulled at every one of my heart strings. I brought him inside when he fainted, cradling my gorgeous obsession and thanking whatever God was willing to listen that I got the chance to hold this perfect man. I watched him sleep, his features looking absolutely peaceful while those lovely blue eyes roamed, hidden, under discolored lids. He hasn't been sleeping much, I can tell, so I let him catch up some. And plus, it allows me more time to stare at him, to take in every detail of his perfect, sweet face.

He wakes and everything happens to fast. We kiss and make love and I swear I'm burning from the inside out. He feels so amazing, nothing but scorching heat and pure love and my mind spins with every thrust of my hips and every quiet gasp that escapes his perfectly shaped lips. I want nothing more than to cover every milky inch of his body in a million kisses and when we lock eyes, I know he wants the same thing.  
I spill everything to him, every detail about my path to him. The pictures, the notes, what I did to that horrible man Shane. Daryl isn't afraid though, he's understanding, just how I imagined him to be. God, how could I have been so lucky as to find this perfect, amazing man. He's stressed, I know he is, and it terrifies me when that test falls from under his dark lashes. I hold his hand, stroking the soft skin and enjoying the warmth from it as I try to calm my lover down.

Mama always said to take care of what's yours.  
I told him I'd treat him like a princess, and I'll be damned if I didn't. I light his cigarettes for him and held him ever so gently, his frail frame fitting perfectly in my arms. We rest like that a while, me sitting against the bed frame and his back to my chest. It allows me to rub my hands over his body, his arms and tight, perfect tummy feeling so soft and wonderful under my hands.  
We stare out the window, the bright moon looking beautiful as it hung above the buildings. I promised I'd bring it to him one day. He had smiled and began to hum gently, a soft tune.  
And my blood began to boil.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this didn't suck. Please comment and let me know what you think!!! :)


End file.
